


Of wine and lions

by gotfanaticc



Category: game of thrones
Genre: Canon-ish, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Post Season 7, drinking and talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 14:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13572252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotfanaticc/pseuds/gotfanaticc
Summary: Tyrion decides to pay Jaime a visit in his tent, as they are all marching North to fight the dead, but is left disappointed to find Jaime in a foul mood and unwilling to talk until another visitor brightens the day. New observations are made, stories are told and glasses of wine emptied.





	Of wine and lions

**Author's Note:**

> Just one of my weird fantasies that don't let me sleep in the night. Second attempt at writing a fic as well as my personal English practice. I hope it's not too horrible, well...

Tyrion was disappointed. When he chose to come to his brother’s tent, he expected to spend the evening laughing and drinking, just like in the old times. He brought a few flagons of the finest wine, as well as snacks from the Queen’s own travelling kitchen – one of the best privileges of being a Hand. Though his brother, apparently, did not value his efforts and signs of brotherly love at all, not only he refused to take a single cup, he was also quiet as a grave. He was grim and sulking, and always staring at the slit of the tent, as if that’s where his happiness went.

Of course, leaving Cersei and coming North wasn’t easy on his part, but Tyrion did not expect Jaime to change so much. True, it’s been a few years since they’ve parted near the cells of the Red Keep, as Jaime set him free, but it seems like decades of pain and horrors were weighing his older brother’s shoulders now.  

“What can I do to make you least a little bit happier? Please, tell me, I really wish to know, brother,” Tyrion said, observing his brother sadly. “If I wanted to drink in silence, I could have as well done it in my own tent.”

Jaime lifted his gaze, sorrow and annoyance fighting in his eyes, and fixed it on Tyrion. “You’re welcome to leave at any time. No one’s keeping you here,” and looked down again, pulling his cloak tighter with his only hand.

“You’re still angry with me,” Tyrion concluded, filling his goblet once more; it appears all of the excellent wine is his to consume. They sat in uncomfortable silence afterwards, until the sound of snow crunching under someone’s footsteps reached their ears; a familiar face appeared in the opening. It was the pale white face with striking blue eyes of a certain warrior woman, the same one who spoke for Jaime alongside Tyrion upon his arrival at Winterfell, and the same one who kept amazing everyone with her fighting skills as she helped to train the young and the old, men and women, but mostly his brother of course.  

Her fair complexion took a shade of light pink as she looked around the tent. “Pardon me, just looking for my squire. Thought he might be bothering you here, I was wrong.” She was about to leave.

“Lady Brienne,” Jaime called out hurriedly, “please join us if you don’t mind, unless you had some urgent business with your squire?”

“Ooh yes!” Tyrion clapped his hands. “I would very much like to get to know more about you, Lady Brienne, stories are one thing and hearing it from the person is entirely different.”

“They’re not very fascinating stories I’m afraid,” her full form emerged from the cold now, she had to bend slightly to walk through the low-topped front of the tent; Jaime had built it quite a bit crooked. “I would only disturb you.”

“Nothing to disturb here anyway. My brother here is as quiet as a silent sister today.” The little Lannister filled another goblet and handed it to Brienne; he had to stretch his arm all the way up. “Please take some wine and join the miserable lions.”

Brienne sat down on the thick furs laid on the ground, putting the goblet on their self-made table (if you could call the metal plate on four bricks a table). She pulled her long legs close, hugging her knees. How come the fearsome warrior can look like a shy little girl?

“Are you cold?” Jaime asked suddenly, and Tyrion wondered whether he had ever heard his brother’s voice so soft, so full of care. Jaime’s whole presence now radiated warmth, so different from the cold expression he had towards Tyrion just minutes ago. A delicate smile and affectionate eyes, perhaps even a slight flush on the cheeks.

“Not really,” the warrior woman denied, but she shrank a bit more, pulling her legs even closer. She did her best to grind her teeth and tense her body to keep from shaking, until a violent wave of shivers erupted anyway. “Alright, it’s my fault I spent the whole day outside but someone had to take care of the camp,” it looks like she hated admitting to be cold, as if would make her seem weaker.

“Just drink the wine,” Tyrion said, “and the cold will be gone in no time.”

Jaime got up and started searching through things in the back of the tent; he soon came back dragging the thickest fur he could apparently find. Without a word, he knelt down besides Brienne, clumsily draping the fur over her back with his only hand. “I can’t watch you freeze. Gods Brienne, there will be plenty of time to turn to a White Walker.”

“Thank you, _ser_ Jaime,” she said quietly, when his touch left her back and he sat down right besides her, not bothering to come to his previous place next to Tyrion.

All sat quiet for a moment, Tyrion doing his best to hold a nasty smirk as he observed the nervous silence between the other two.

“Jaime, would you mind bringing me something too? I’m starting to feel rather cold as well, now that you’ve left my brotherly side,” Tyrion snorted, putting his tiny hands over his mouth as he tried to hold the laughter – Jaime’s angry look was just too much. He looked like a fierce lion, ready to jump at his victim.

“Tyrion, don’t,” he said bitterly.

“What did I do, sweet brother?” the younger Lannister asked, innocently. “Talk my friends, drink my friends! What are we here for, not arguing I hope, let’s leave that for the council meetings.”

Brienne took her half-full goblet and drank to the bottom, she wasn’t shivering anymore.

“Now that’s a different talk,” Tyrion approved. Jaime finally touched his as well.

“Won’t your queen miss you, Tyrion? What if she needs some advice before the battle?” Jaime asked.

“Oh please. She’s occupied enough, believe me. Enjoying _the Snows,_ ” Tyrion quipped. “Do you resent my company so much?”

“How did you come into the Dragon Queen’s service?” Brienne asked, before the brothers could continue snarking at each other.

“Oh, a long story. To be honest, I was drunk through most of it. Let’s better talk about how you two met, Jaime never told me much, not even when he gave Podrick to your good hands.”

Brienne sipped some more wine before talking. “ _Ser_ Jaime was taken prisoner by Robb Stark. Lady Catelyn commanded me to deliver him to King’s Landing to trade for her daughters, I was her sworn sword.”

“Best trip of my life,” Jaime smiled, “or was it the worst? Both I suppose.” He took more wine as well.

“You lost your hand and you were humiliated by Locke’s men, what good about it?” Brienne asked, looking at Jaime with a surprised expression.

“Why, I met Brienne of Tarth!” he pat Brienne on the shoulder, his tongue getting looser from the wine.

Tyrion chuckled too, “That’s very fortunate of course.”

“Don’t mock me, Lannisters,” she sounded slightly irritated.

“That was never my intent, Brienne, not even when I used to call you ‘wench’” Jaime reassured her with all the honesty he could find, “though we Lannisters aren’t the most pleasant people; I think that much is known.”

“Well you seem alright so far,” Brienne said blushing lightly, “your brother too, I suppose.”

Tyrion struggled with that smile of his again, watching the two of them was very amusing, and it felt like getting to know a completely different side of his brother too. “Ah yes, cockiness is our family trait, a very dominant one,” he snorted again, “I thank you for the kind words; now tell me more about your journey. I believe there was more to it than hand chopping and name calling.”

Brienne giggled unexpectedly, the wine was getting to her too apparently. Her laughter was very contagious and seemed to be far too girly for her, oh and Jaime’s expression was priceless, he couldn’t take his eyes of her now.

“Oh there were bears too,” she blurted, amused.

Tyrion lifted his eyebrows. “Do tell.”

“Locke, that idiot, threw her in a bear pit for amusement and gave her a _wooden sword,_ a wooden fucking sword!” Jaime was slightly enraged at the thought.

“And then you landed out of nowhere. I still don’t understand why you came back for me.”

Jaime looked at her dreamily, “I had _reasons_.”

_And so words started to flow more and more freely, and Tyrion felt less and less needed. None of those warm words or strangely soft glances were meant for him, so he stood and left at some point, not sure how to feel about the fact that he walked out completely unnoticed. Yet he felt happy to have found a new side of his brother, as well as a way to cheer him up._

   


End file.
